Cursing softly and viciously, Thayer drew his dagger to cut himself free. The arrow had not pierced his flesh but had pinned him by his tunic. He was a dangerously easy target. Even as he hacked himself free, another arrow thudded into the tree, ruffling his hair.
Once he was free, he caught Gytha up under one arm and raced for his mount. He skidded to a halt, bellowing a curse, as an arrow felled the horse. Turning quickly, he bolted into the wood, seeking the protection of the trees and shadows.
Spotting a good hiding place, he set Gytha down, then crouched down beside her. His enemy would have to hunt him now, expose himself as he searched for his prey. It gave Thayer a small advantage that he grasped tightly. He spared a brief glance to see how Gytha fared, then, assured that she was breathless but hale, he fixed his gaze on the area surrounding them.
Gytha sought to be as quiet as possible as she struggled to regain her breath. She looked Thayer over carefully to assure herself that he was unhurt. Her husband, she decided, had more luck than anyone else she knew. She prayed it would hold. She was sure they would need a wagonload of luck to escape unscathed.
She heard someone approach even as Thayer tensed, his gaze centered upon the direction of the sound. The brief touch of his fingers against her lips was not really needed to keep her quiet. She knew well the value of silence at such a time. Moving as little as possible, she looked in the direction Thayer did and saw three men cautiously making their way towards them. She knew instinctively that they were sent by Robert’s uncle to murder Thayer.
“I think this is unwise,” grumbled one man. “Too many places for him to hide.”
“Hush, you whining dog. He is only one man and hindered by the woman. We will separate here.” The taller of the three nudged one of his men to his left, then looked at the hesitant one. “You go straight ahead. I will search to the right. We will flush this bird.”
“I think…”
“You are not paid to think. Find him and find that cursed woman.” The leader strode off to the right.
A cold smile eased over Thayer’s face, and Gytha shivered faintly when she saw it. Here was the man who had earned the name Red Devil. Hurried to safety during the other attacks, she had not really seen him. She knew she would see death strike soon, but she quickly hardened her heart. These men meant to kill Thayer. Mercy could prove fatal.
Despite knowing it was necessary, Gytha was still shocked when Thayer did what he had to do. For such a big man, he moved with a speed and stealth that left her gaping. As the man came abreast of them, Thayer struck. Leaping up, he clapped his hand over the man’s mouth, yanking backwards to hold him through surprise and a greater bulk. The man was just reaching upwards to claw at Thayer’s smothering hand when Thayer buried a dagger in his heart. Gytha faintly echoed the spasm that tore through the man’s dying body.
Thayer gave her no time to fully react to what she had seen. He dropped the body and caught her up beneath his arm again. Struggling to breathe somewhat normally as he trotted towards another place to hide left Gytha unable to protest the undignified handling. She smothered her cry, forcefully reminding herself they fought for their lives, when he set her down somewhat abruptly amongst some bushes, then hunkered down beside her. When the rushing in her ears eased, she heard someone approaching and knew Thayer had moved to intercept another of their pursuers.
She did not watch, keeping her eyes firmly diverted as Thayer swiftly ended any threat the man may have offered. With numb resignation, she felt herself yet again lifted like some lump of baggage and toted to a new place. To her dismay, the last of their enemies did not die so quickly nor as quietly. Thayer needed some answers and faced the man squarely, sword against sword. He got what little information he needed before being forced to end the man’s life.
The man had carelessly revealed that there were only three attackers, so she knew she and Thayer were now safe. Therefore, she was a little surprised when she was yet again picked up and toted off. This time he set her down gently on a thick bed of grass, the area only slightly shaded from view by a few shrubs. She watched as he yanked off his jerkin and used it to clean himself, then his sword before carelessly tossing the garment aside.
Recovered somewhat from all they had just been through, she was ready with a few complaints when he turned towards her. The words stuck in her throat when she saw the look upon his face. A hunger she well recognized darkened his eyes to black and tautened the lines of his face. She felt an immediate response, his hunger reaching within her to stir her own. Deciding she would make her complaints later, she opened her arms, laughing softly when he nearly fell into her hold.
Their lovemaking was swift, rough, tumultuous. Gytha lost herself completely to the blind ferocity of it. It was not until they sprawled sated in each other’s arms that she realized she had been tumbled upon the grass like some coarse, roundheeled maid. A quick glance affirmed that they had not even bothered to undress. Her skirts were shoved up to her waist, and his clothes were tangled around his ankles. A flicker of embarrassment came and went, then she grinned. When Thayer showed strong signs of embarrassment as he moved to straighten out his twisted braies and hose, she started to giggle.
Smiling faintly with relief, Thayer watched her adjust her clothing. “Then I did not hurt you?”
“Nay, though I may well find a bruise or two come morning.”
He tugged her into his arms, giving her a brief kiss. “Having you near when my blood still ran hot and fierce from battle was more temptation than I could resist.”
Recalling what had happened to stir his blood, she leaned heavily against him. “Do you think we sin to carry on so after such a thing?”
“Nay. They sought to kill us, Gytha.”
“I know. I know you had to do it. To show mercy would only have brought you death. Yet, to want to tumble so carelessly when three men are newly dead? I do not feel I did wrong, yet it seems so heartless.”
Breathing an inner sigh of relief to hear her say she had welcomed the lovemaking, Thayer then sought to explain feelings he was all too familiar with. “Mayhap. I have often wondered the same. The lusting does not come upon me in the midst of battle. I am not so black of heart that spilling a man’s blood stirs me so. Nay, ’tis after the fighting is done.”
“As you stand amongst the dead and dying, yet still live.”
“Aye.” He looked at her in appreciation of her insight. “’Tis then that the need comes. I look about and know that I have lived to see another day—” He shrugged, unable to clearly describe how that felt.
“You seek more proof of your continued well-being,” she murmured, half-smiling. “’Tis a celebration, then?”
“Mayhap. You did not fight this battle, yet you were caught up in it. Mayhap the same happened to you.”
“Could be. I think it had a lot to do with how you looked at me, actually.”
“Did it now.” He told himself firmly not to let her admission go to his head.
“Aye. It did. Such heat.” She shook her head. “I felt it reach out and set my insides to burning.
